Tria
by fiesa
Summary: Nabi. The beginning of winter brings a stranger to their temple. OneShot- Myo-Un, Ryu-Sang, Ha-Rim. Change always comes unbidden.


**Tria**

_Summary: Nabi. The beginning of winter brings a stranger to their temple. OneShot- Myo-Un, Ryu-Sang, Ha-Rim. Change always comes unbidden._

_Warning: Drabble-esque._

_Set: Follows the events of vol. 01. Chronologically, even._

_Disclaimer: Standards apply._

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><p><strong>i. <strong>

Myo-Un's steps always were the same.

Even without knowing it was her Ryu-Sang would have been able to recognize them: she tread softly and with a barely noticeable irregularity in her gait that reminded of the wound she had once received and almost died from. The soft steps halted in front of the boy's sleeping quarters, then continued on and disappeared. The wind rustled the camellia bushes. Some snow slid off the roof. Ryu-Sang pushed away Yeokyeong, who had snuck too close once again, closed his eyes and listened to the soft breathing that lingered in the room.

Lady Howol had been gone for five days now.

* * *

><p><strong>ii. <strong>

Snow made the world look untouched and beautiful.

Aru's hand was warm in hers as they walked down the road towards the village, Myo-Un carefully making small steps so the little girl would be able to follow easily. A bird called in the distance.

"What do we need, Myo-Un sister?" The little girl was excited to be there with her, probably excited, too, that she had managed to sneak out and thus would miss Dan-Ah sister's classes. Myo-Un knew very well that there was a test today, and also that Aru detested the grammar exams like little else. But looking at her smiling face, she couldn't help the surge of love in her heart.

"We have to pick up a few things for the Lady," she replied, listening to the way the snow swallowed the echoes of their voices. "And some rice for breakfast."

"But shopping isn't your job, sister, isn't it? You cannot carry much."

"It's just a bit of rice." She smiled at Aru's eager, worried face. "Suk-Chel and the other boys will pick up the rest later. And besides, I got you to help me, haven't I?"

Aru smiled up at her and skipped a fewsteps. Their breath formed clouds in front of them as they continued on the road.

"Myo-Un sister," Aru suddenly said and tugged at her hand. "Sister, look."

Myo-Un looked.

* * *

><p><strong>iii.<strong>

_Cold._

_Maybe he would die here._

_The thought didn't scare him. Ha-Rim had faced much scarier things than death in his life. As it was, he probably deserved death- a chuckle, the last weak sound he was capable of. Yes. He definitely deserved death. But not like this. Not like this soft, _kind_ kind of death. He was fading away slowly, and he didn't deserve it. What he deserved was fire and pain until he bled out slowly, unable to atone for all his sins but already receiving a fraction of the punishment he deserved-_

_Not cold anymore. Warm._

_Maybe it wasn't so bad to die._

"You are not dead."

_A voice, and something warm that touched his face, found the slow pulse at the base of his neck._

"You will die if you stay here."

_The hands that touched him were warm, but the voice sounded warmer. Like a fire on a cold night. Like a mother's touch – Stop, he told himself. You are dying. By all means, the world will be a better place without you._

_So-Ryu-_

"I can't leave you here. I will have to carry you."

_A short silence._

"Aru, help me, okay? I don't know if I have the strength to carry him all the way back, but I will try."

_Something tugged at his arms._

"Gods, he's heavy."

_He probably should just struggle and tell the person to leave him to die. But her hands were warm, and her voice was warm. Something tickled his face. Hair. It smelled like flowers. It's winter, his mind strung together. Flowers in winter. Flowers. Warm voice, warm hands. So different from So-Ryu._

_By all means, he deserved to die._

_I want to live._

"You want to live, don't you."

* * *

><p><strong>iv. <strong>

He hated the interruption of the Temple's routine, and strangers were intruders. Intruders were interruptions.

Ryu-Sang watched the stranger the girl had brought in eat as if there was no tomorrow. He was filthy, his clothes were wrinkled and torn and he wasn't wearing socks. His soaked overcoat hung at the fire, dripping softly, the droplets evaporating with a faint, sizzling sound when they fell into the flames. The stranger was on his second bowl of rice and it didn't look like he would stop anytime soon. From outside the paper-wall doors, the kids were watching with suspicion etched onto their faces. Lady Howol had trained them well.

"Can I have another helping, please?"

The stranger grinned as he held out his bowl, bits of rice still on his lips. Ryu-Sang's short thread of patience snapped.

"Our hospitality has been stretched to its limit."

Myo-Un wouldn't have been that impolite. She had rescued the stranger from his sure death, had carried him to the Temple although she could barely walk on days like these, when the weather had changed suddenly and her old scars ached. Myo-Un would have served him rice until he was sated, then would offer him a place to stay and their bathing facilities to clean up and would have let him rest until he wanted to leave by himself. Myo-Un was a kind person, too kind for the world, too stupid to see that strangers were dangerous and that in times like these were the beginning of something that rarely ended well. Ryu-Sang couldn't have said how he knew that, but he _knew._ So he grabbed the stranger's coat from the fire and made it clear he had to leave, and the dark-haired man smiled and left.

"Should I bring out the tables, Myo-Un sister?"

The others settled down for breakfast, noisily and familiar, and Ryu-Sang prayed to the Gods this had been the last time they had seen the suspicious man. There wasn't much rice left. They hadn't managed to run the errands yesterday, when the sudden snowfall had confined them to the Temple. So he pretended to be tired and left his portion to the kids (the girl would probably keep some rice for him from her own ration, stupid as she was). The constant chatter was familiar and calming.

He would eat some warm buns later in town, when he went to finish the errands Myo-Un hadn't been able to finish because of the stranger.

* * *

><p><strong>v. <strong>

Her world is a temple.

The stone and wood structures of the familiar buildings, the colored paper walls, the hemp ropes and camellia bushes. Myo-Un's world is a stone garden filled with children's voices, with the calls of Dan-Ah sister who reprimands the kids that would rather play outside than take a grammar test, the bickering of Suk-Chel and Yeokyeong and the other boys, the melodious sounds of the elder sisters at the washing board, or cleaning the bowls after breakfast. The dull clanking of wooden practice swords in the lower courtyard. The song of the birds in the silence of the early morning. Rain drops on the roof, the wind in the bamboo grove, Aru's pretty voice rising over the other children's voices when they sing praise to the Gods. The cool metal of her needles in her hand, the whispered touch of silk thread and cloth, the scent of the ink when she grinds the ink stone for the Lady. The song of the wind rustling the leaves of the camellia has been her lullaby since she can remember. She has woken to the Lady's prayer bell countless times, has eaten with her brothers and sisters, has helped with the chores. This is her home. Myo-Un loves it more than anything.

There is no place she would rather be.

"If you want to learn, I can send you to a school. If you want to see the world, you may begin a journey. What do you wish for, Myo-Un?"

It is such a small wish, but it feels too blasphemous to voice it.

"I will continue to grind the ink stone for you, Lady."

And Lady Howol smiles. Red and yellow flowers flow from the tip of her fine brush, come to life on the canvas like a small girl came to life in the temple ten years ago. So beautiful and yet so unreal, the images on the white, rustling parchment. And Myo-Un feels like she is only a dream construct, as well. Formed, shaped and brought to life by another person, beautiful but without life. Why else would her only wish be so selfish, so hideous?

She is seventeen. She is far from a little girl. She knows that change is inevitable, that life never remains the same. A human who does not change is inhuman, after all, he told her before and she has never forgotten it. Is that it? Is she inhuman? Or just selfish until the bitter end?

_I do not want things to change._

Myo-Un prays.

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><p><strong>vi. <strong>

Two days.

Two days Ha-Rim has spent in the temple, two days as the guest of Lady Howol. Two days he has eaten and slept with its inhabitants, with this gaggle of children both lost and incredibly, unbelievably alive. Two days he has watched and listened, followed, seen. The liveliness in the children's eyes when they cluster around their Lady to listen to a story, the smile in their faces when they fall asleep at night. The tone of their voice when they speak of their beloved home. They fight, they play, they eat and sleep. They're children, each single one up including to the girls and boys who are of the same age as Ha-Rim is, children because they have never seen what he has seen, never been where he has been. Oh yes, some of them have experienced hardship and hunger, pain and abandonment. But still they are children, happy in their innocence, and they will cry bitter tears at what is going to come. Ryu-Sang is different, but one man will not be enough to save them.

Two days, and he feels nothing: it is his blessing and his curse.

The first time he saw them standing next to each other they seemed like lovers. Standing on the Temple's steps, blocking the door: side by side, not looking at each other but with an air of wordless communication that made him think _They're sleeping with each other. _Shoulder by shoulder, their faces on the same height because he was standing two steps below her. Dark hair billowed out in the cold wind, mixed with silvery blond. Two pairs of eyes: one blue, one brown, one with clear hostility, one with careful guardedness. Every action of Ryu-Sang spoke of a deep-rooted sense of protectiveness he felt towards Myo-Un. Something not quite like jealousy, more like he knew he had nothing to fear and disliked Ha-Rim being close, either way. The way he had dragged him off Myo-Un's back harshly, the way he had stepped forward the moment he had seen Ha-Rim's determination to approach her – protectiveness, determination, dislike, everything was clear on his face. They looked like lovers, in so many aspects. Myo-Un's hooded glances. Ryu-Sang's protectiveness. In hindsight, it was stupid to give her the bead necklace, but after what he had heard from the elder women's gossip he had to find out where she had gotten the scar that marred her beautiful face.

It made sense, really.

From the way her gaze changed he could say Ryu-Sang was standing behind him, even if he hadn't heard him coming. Something in her warm smile shifted, _broke_, and there was the man looking down at them with all the disdain a face that held no expression could muster. Myo-Un's smile vanished and her eyes took on an expression Ha-Rim couldn't decipher, and _yes, they're lovers, it is so obvious. _How, he wondered, would this reflect on his mission? He had wanted to take Ryu-Sang, first, and then thought that maybe, _maybe_, Myo-Un – but she was a woman, his master was looking for a man, without doubt. _Still_, the voice in his head persisted. _She has a scar. She was brought here when she was seven, almost dead. __She-_

The way she blushed and cast down her eyes when he asked about her scar spoke of worlds. Ryu-Sang watched, his face still without expression. There had to be something about the scar, something about the two of them, something that connected them and still made her blush.

"Is the Lady here?"

Ryu-Sang didn't even speak to her, addressed the little child, instead, and Ha-Rim glanced back over his shoulder. Myo-Un's painful expression, Ryu-Sang's stiff back.

_Or they were lovers, at least._

Ha-Rim smiled. So many variables, a number of calculations, only one possible outcome. Two days were not enough to change the heart of a person like him. Not even beautiful eyes and children's laughter could make a wonder happen.

* * *

><p><strong>vii.<strong>

Myo-Un's steps always were the same.

The soft rustling of the blankets by the paper-screen doors. The soft shift in the overall breathing pattern in the room that told of a change in the atmosphere. Everybody noticed it, even in their sleep. The soft steps halted in front of the boy's sleeping quarters, then continued on and disappeared. The wind rustled the camellia bushes. Some snow slid off the roof. Ryu-Sang held his breath and waited for the inevitable to happen.

Lady Howol had been back for five nights now.

* * *

><p><strong>viii. <strong>

It was her own fault.

Ryu-Sang's blood was red in the white snow. The stranger's hand gripped her collar tightly and her umbrella fell away from her useless, weak hands, and then Ryu-Sang was there, his sword drawn, his eyes a well of cold and danger.

And Myo-Un knew it was her own fault, hers and hers alone. Because she brought the stranger to the place she loved more than anything. He was threatening the people she loved more than anything. Something had come to the Temple that never had been there before, not even when Ryu-Sang hadn't spoken to her for years. Something dangerous, something alien, something that threatened to upset their entire life. And Myo-Un was unable to do anything.

The umbrella fell into the snow with a muted thump, and Ryu-Sang's eyes were as cold as the air around them.

_Your fault, your fault._

* * *

><p><strong>ix.<strong>

"So why wait those five days, you will ask me?"

Ha-Rim felt his lips stretch into a smile he did not feel.

"Because there were so many lives."

So many people at the temple, so many new discoveries to make. He wouldn't deny that it had been interesting, staying at Seong Howol's temple. The dynamics of this place – of the people living here – was captivating. The hierarchy, the patterns. Every human being was different, it was something Ha-Rim had learned early in his life. But here, the children were attuned to each other on a level that he'd never seen before. They exchanged glances and knew what the other meant without saying a word. They had each other's back in a fascinating and tragic way that actually made him smile. Smile, because it was so useless, because it was so pathetic and stupid. Human beings could not rely on each other. Why they even tried was beyond him.

Clearly, these children had not yet learned that the world was a cruel, cruel place with no kindness to turn to.

"So many lives to take."

They would all die: soft-hearted, shy Myo-Un and her annoying lover with the mile-wide streak of impoliteness, the annoying little girl, the woman who had cleaned his coat for him, the brats that had tried to find out his name. The small kids, the elder women, the women and men trained as swordfighters. They were all going to die, didn't stand a chance.

"Shall we begin?"

Unlike Myo-Un, Ha-Rim was not a person who felt pity and kindness. Unlike Ryu-Sang, Ha-Rim was not born to protect. He could only destroy. He might have felt sad, had it been in his nature. But there was blood on his hands and on his soul and still he felt nothing. He was a killer. He did not need kindness or protectiveness or politeness, and he did not seek forgiveness. He wanted them dead because it was his mission, aside from that, he had no allegiance to no one and no mercy for anyone. Once upon a time there had been a child that had been told to wait. Instead, he had followed a girl. The girl had, unlike Myo-Un, turned around to see who was following her. But she hadn't talked to him, hadn't done anything, just turned back to the road and let him follow. Her small, expensive shoes had made a tiny trail in the fresh snow. They were sturdy, her shoes, she probably hadn't had cold and wet feet. But then, she never once lacked anything in her life except for the warmth of a home and the love of a parent. Not that Ha-Rim particularly cared. He had no feelings, and he did not need pity for that. Hana would have pitied him, but her pity always had been soft. Bearable. He had loved her for that, as much as he had been capable of loving someone. He loved So-Ryu, too. But Ha-Rim had killed Hana. Now there were only the two of them left.

_So-Ryu…_

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><p><strong>x. <strong>

That night, the temple goes up in flames.


End file.
